The Black Lion: A Reverse Harem Paranormal Romance (Godhunter Book 30)

by Amy Sumida

  Kirill strode straight to the back, veering to the right just before the iconostasis. We tried to keep up with him but most of us dawdled, our stares roaming the vast space that seemed both spartan and opulent all at once. This wasn't a cathedral anymore—if it had ever been one—no one worshiped here. Unless you called revering the dead a type of worship. This place, for all its beauty, had a somberness hanging over it that was only slightly thicker than the air of curiosity imported by its visitors. The resting sight of the Romanovs attracted more tourists than mourners.

  And yes, by the way, I've asked Kirill about Anastasia and only received a grimace and an eye roll for my efforts.

  I caught up with Kirill and Lesya and joined them before the last group of sarcophagi on the right side of the cathedral. The group consisted of two rows of three, each row encased by a low iron fence; separated but still obviously together. Kirill stood before the first row.

  “My sister, Elizabeth.” Kirill indicated the last sarcophagus on our left, the one furthest from the wall. “My mother.” His hand went to the one in the middle then continued to the last. “My father.”

  The other men held back respectfully to give Kirill his space, but I took Kirill's free hand; Lesya still held his other one. He stared at the golden crosses a moment then let out a long breath.

  “You don't have to speak to them,” I said gently. “You're here. You're paying your respects. That's enough, Kirill. We can come back another time.”

  “Nyet,” he said softly and leaned down to kiss my cheek. “I have something I need to say. Something zey need to hear.”

  “Okay, baby. Take your time.”

  “Is that my grandparents?” Lesya asked. “Why are they in boxes?”

  “I don't like boxes,” Vero whispered to his father behind us.

  “You will never be in one, Son,” Trevor said firmly. “Boxes are for humans, not Gods.”

  “Oh. Good.” Vero relaxed. He might not have understood exactly what Trevor meant, but he's a wolf, and he'd picked up on the ambiance in the cathedral, especially the emotions wafting off his uncle, and concluded that those pretty boxes were not a nice place to end up. For one thing, you didn't get out once you were inside.

  “They're not really there,” I explained to both children. “This is a grave, like the ones we have at Pride Palace for lions who died.”

  “Like Uncle Hamish?” Vero asked.

  “Exactly.” I grinned. “Only empty bodies lie here, the souls moved on.”

  Hamish was one of the Intare who had died. I wasn't able to provide an afterlife for him since I'm not a god of the dead, but Anubis, attempting to make up for past mistakes, provided one in my stead, and the souls of a few of the Intare lived on in Duat, the Egyptian Underworld.

  “Then why don't we visit them wherever they are?” Lesya asked.

  “It's been a long time since they died,” Odin took over. “And your father couldn't look for them before. Now, he doesn't know where to look and there are a lot of territories where your grandparents could be. So, we're here, where he can speak to them with his magic. The bodies, although they don't hold souls anymore, are still a link to the souls that once inhabited them.”

  “Like how we used Mokosh's blouse to track her,” I added. “It's a trail Daddy can follow.”

  “Oh,” Lesya said, utterly accepting of magic and the lack of limitations it has. “Can I speak to them too?” She asked Kirill then sniffed. “I can't smell them.”

  “You don't have to smell zem,” Kirill said gently. “It's different kind of trail. You can speak, but let me introduce you first.”

  “Okay, Daddy.”

  “And you probably won't hear them speaking back, sweetie,” I added. “But they might hear you.”

  Kirill grinned at me before he started to talk to his dead parents; first in Russian and then he went on in English, “Mother, Father, zis is my vife, Vervain, and our daughter, Lesya.”

  “Hi, Grandpa and Grandma,” Lesya called out.

  People walking through the cathedral stopped to frown at Lesya in confusion and rebuke.

  “Sorry.” I waved at them. To Lesya, I added, “A little softer, baby. We're inside and your grandparents are dead, not deaf.”

  “Oh.” Lesya blinked. Then whispered, “Hi, Grandpa and Grandma.”

  Kirill smiled at her fondly before continuing the introductions. “And zese are my brothers; Trevor, Odin, Azrael, Re, and Viper. And my nephew, Vero. Ve are family, and I am happy. Finally happy.” He paused to take a shaky breath. “I forgive you, Father. Your greed gave me a magnificent life, even if you meant to end it. I have hated you a long time for zat, even after death cleansed me of all other pain, but I cannot hold on any longer. I refuse to risk poisoning love I have vith hate. It's time to let go.”

  Something shimmered in the air and coasted over my skin. Kirill inhaled sharply, his eyes going liquid, and his shoulders settled in peace. He nodded, picked up Lesya, and hugged her and me together. I felt it inside Kirill; his father hadn't spoken to him, not exactly, but he had answered. He'd offered his son the only things that could give Kirill peace; his regret and love. Having moved beyond the limitations of his body and all the insanity it held, Peter the First had finally become great. He could now see his mistakes as well as his triumphs and had taken the opportunity to make amends.

  Kirill said one more thing in Russian. I didn't know the words but I understood them through him. Love; Kirill had just added more of it to his life even though the person he offered it to was dead.

  One more effervescent touch came, and Kirill smiled beatifically, looking from Lesya to me. Then he turned away from the graves of his human family to gather us, his immortal family, and usher us away from death.

  “Time to eat,” Kirill said brightly.

  “Yay!” Lesya whispered.

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  One thing that I realized during our time in Russia, short though it was, is that I don't care for Russian food. I refer you back to the porridge incident. They make incredible desserts and baked goods but as for the main event, I'm not a fan. So, even though we probably should have, we didn't have lunch in Russia. Instead, we introduced Snow's Barbecue to the rest of the family.

  The guys adored it, even—and maybe especially—the casual dining area beneath its corrugated metal roof. They sprawled at our picnic table just like the regulars, smearing sauce everywhere and smacking on their fingers with glee. Viper even outdid Lesya in the messy-face department. I got a picture of that on my cellphone for the sake of posterity. I will treasure it forever.

  And since we were in the area, I decided to introduce everyone to the Lieutenant as well. I told them about Austin Wright during the meal; using the food to keep assuage the savage beasts and keep them from yelling at me. Surprisingly, they were okay with what I'd done. As Odin said; if Austin tried to tell anyone about us, they'd probably lock him up. As far as his usefulness, Odin wasn't as sure about that. As in; he straight-up doubted he'd have any. We had Torrent, after all. What could a human cop do that the God of the Internet couldn't? I shrugged at Odin and said that you never know. Friends are good to have.

  As a friendly gesture, we brought Austin some barbecue. We walked down the street to the police station and sent Trevor in to ask for the Lieutenant. Kirill and I didn't want to risk showing our faces in there. Trevor emerged a few minutes later with the news that Lieutenant Wright had the day off.

  I called Torrent—during which Odin gave me a look that reiterated how helpful Torr was compared to a human—and got the Lieutenant's home address. We called an uber and a minivan picked us up and drove us—rather uncomfortably due to the number of massive males squished into it—to Austin's home. I tipped the driver extra for the large load, but I don't think she minded. We had almost wrecked—twice—because she kept eyeing the men.

  Our driver took us up a long, gravel drive and parked in front of Austin's single-story home. It sat in the middle of a grass lawn that I could pra
ctically hear crying out in thirst. Trees edged the property and they, combined with the amount of land, made the house seem isolated. The wood exterior added to that feeling. I frowned at the reddish logs that made up the walls and then at the green roof and matching trim. It reminded me of something.

  “Is that a Lincoln Logs house?” Trevor asked as he cocked his head at the structure.

  “That's it!” I declared in epiphany. “I knew it looked familiar. Talk about living a boyhood dream.”

  The minivan pulled away just as the front door opened. Austin stepped onto his porch with a shotgun in his hands. He opened his mouth to say something then spotted Lesya and me. His entire demeanor changed.

  “Does he always greet his guests with a gun?” Viper asked Kirill, who shrugged.

  “Vervain?” Austin's gun lowered and his stare spread out over the men.

  “Hi!” I said brightly and went forward, holding the bag of barbecue up like a peace offering or a shield. “I'm sorry to barge in on you, but we were having lunch and grabbed you a plate. We took it by the station but they said you had the day off. We aren't interrupting anything are we?”

  Austin sniffed deeply. “That Snow's?”

  “Of course.” I grinned wider.

  “Then hell no, you ain't interruptin'. Come on in.” He looked at the guys again and paused. “You know what? I don't think my house is big enough for all of you. Why don't we sit out back?”

  “Sure.” I shrugged.

  Austin propped his shotgun by the door as my men exchanged amused looks. “Hey, Lesya, how ya doin', darlin'?”

  “Very well, thank you, Mr. Wright,” Lesya said politely, and I nodded at her in approval.

  Then I realized what she'd said. “Mr. Wright.” I chuckled. “I bet that works out well for picking up women. You can tell them they just found Mr. Right.”

  “I'm a gentleman.” Austin drew himself up and winked at me. “Gentlemen don't pick up ladies, we engage them in conversation.”

  I snorted.

  “And do gentlemen in Texas normally leave shotguns by their front doors?” Azrael asked casually.

  Austin shrugged. “We'll hear anyone who drives up. If it bothers you, I can put it inside.”

  “A shotgun could not, in any way, bother me.” Azrael gave Austin a look that said there was very little on Earth that could bother him.

  “Fair enough,” Austin murmured and looked at Vero. “And who's this little guy?”

  “Vero, my son,” I said as we started to walk around the side of the house with Austin.

  “Hello,” Vero said warily.

  “Hey there.” Austin looked from Vero to Trevor. “Is this your daddy? You're the spittin' image of him.”

  “Ew,” Lesya declared. “Spit again.”

  “It's another saying,” I explained. “Don't ask me where it came from.”

  Meanwhile, Vero said solemnly, “Yes, my daddy.” And patted Trevor on the chest. “Who are you?”

  “I'm Austin.” He waved us to an old picnic table, one of those plastic ones, and some deck chairs.

  “Austin Wright, this is my family. Well, my immediate family. You've already met Lesya, Kirill, and Vero. Vero's father is Trevor, he's a werewolf, in case you're wondering.”

  Austin blinked. He'd been pulling a deck chair over to the end of the picnic table and just dropped it, his hand gone limp.

  Trevor chuckled. “I don't bite. Unless you give me a reason to, that is.”

  “Fair 'nuff,” Austin murmured.

  I set the bag of barbecue down before him, and he brightened.

  “Thank you kindly.”

  “My pleasure.” I nodded then went on with the introductions. “This is Odin, he's head of the Norse Pantheon.”

  “Thor's father?” Austin asked him.

  “That's right,” Odin confirmed.

  “I thought you said you dated Thor?” Austin directed that one at me.

  “Moving right along.” I cleared my throat as Austin's brows went up. “This is Azrael, the Angel of Death. I mentioned him before.”

  “The J-Man's brother?”

  Azrael snorted a laugh and looked at me. “How much have you told this guy, Vervain?”

  “Not that much.”

  “Not that much?” Austin asked in a worried tone.

  “I'm trying to ease you into things. Can I finish introducing everyone, please?”

  “By all means.” Austin waved grandly.

  “Thank you kindly,” I mimicked him. “This is Re, Head of the Egyptian Pantheon.”

  “I thought that was Osiris?” Austin asked.

  Re's expression went from casual curiosity to hostile irritation. His golden eyes narrowed as my other men chuckled.

  “Re, they're not big on Egyptian mythology here.” I held a hand up to ward him off.

  “Sorry. Didn't mean to offend,” Austin said quickly. “I'm new to this.”

  “You're forgiven,” Re said stiffly. “Don't make the mistake again.”

  “Osiris is married to Re's great-granddaughter,” I whispered to Austin. “You basically asked if someone much younger, less powerful, and not of his blood ruled his family.”

  “Oh. Sorry.” Austin offered. Then he cocked his head. “Hold on just a minute. You have a great-granddaughter?” He stared at Re in disbelief.

  Re preened, settling his shoulders as if this reaction was far more appropriate. “I'm ancient, Mr. Wright, and very powerful. This”—he waved at himself—“is one of the perks of power.”

  “The great Sun God, Re,” I teased Re in my fake-worshipful tone.

  Re grimaced at me then shifted it to a grin. Re has no illusions about himself; he knows he's an arrogant ass.

  “You did catch that we're Gods, right?” Trevor asked Austin with a lopsided grin. “We're immortal. We've been around awhile.”

  “Oh. Right. Sure.” Austin nodded.

  “Except for me,” Viper said. “I'm not even a year yet.”

  Austin did that long blink.

  “And this is Viper,” I finally completed the intros and added a smack to Viper's shoulder as I did. “He came to life fully formed; a story you're not ready for yet. Viper is a star god.”

  “Like from Guardians of the Galaxy?” Austin asked in a daze.

  “Nope, that's Star Lord,” Viper corrected. “Common mistake, though.”

  “Well.” Austin wiped a hand over his face. “If you're going to have a horde of husbands like some kind of anti-Mormon, I suppose you might as well go big.”

  “Yes, I'm a very lucky woman,” I agreed.

  Introductions complete, the guys started to settle onto seats.

  “How did you find my house, dar—” Austin caught Kirill's glare and drawled darlin' into, “—th Vader?”

  I laughed so hard that I couldn't breathe. When I finally came up, gasping for air, I repeated, “Darth Vader?”

  “It was the best I could come up with on short notice.” Austin shook his head. “Sorry. I'll have to work on the darlin' thing.”

  “I zink I prefer darlin' to Darth Vader,” Kirill noted dryly.

  “Who wouldn't?” Trevor agreed.

  “And I think that you just gave me permission to call your wife darlin',” Austin shot back.

  “I kinda like him,” Viper said to the other men.

  “I'll take that,” Austin nodded to Viper as if he were tipping his hat. “Anyone want a beer?”

  Austin got up and wandered over to a cooler. He flipped the lid up; bottles of beer waited inside on ice. A quick movement brought one forth and Austin waved it toward us.

  “I'll take one,” Trevor accepted, setting Vero down on the tabletop before heading over.

  The other men followed while Vero sauntered across the wood to me. I opened my arms, and he threw his around my neck then fell into my lap.

  “You have a cooler of beer ready and waiting?” Odin asked Austin as he accepted a bottle from the returning Trevor.

  “Only on my days off.” Aus
tin shrugged. “You never know when someone might show up and it's rude not to offer a visitor a cold drink.”

  As soon as Trevor was back, Vero climbed across the table to his father.

  I sighed dramatically. “Abandoned by my own son.”

  Vero just grinned at me before he scooted onto Trevor's lap.

  “I think we should have a cooler of beer,” Viper declared as he snatched a bottle for himself.